Eat Fresh, Live Green
by SSAEmilyHotchner
Summary: Oneshot. All hell breaks loose when Hotch gets a very pregnant Emily's Subway order wrong. Slightly milder than a K-plus rating. Enjoy!


**Author's Note: I love Subway. Or at least, a specific sandwich from Subway. The very same sandwich that I wrote as Emily's favorite. (These comments of mine aren't random, I promise.) This oneshot is really random, however, but don't get me wrong, I'm actually confident that you'll find it enjoyable and that it will put a highly amused smile on your face. :) As always, thank you so much for reading!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds or any of its characters.**

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><p>Emily languidly combed her fingers through Hotch's hair as he peppered kisses over every inch of her pregnant belly. He'd been going at it for several minutes, smiling with delight here and there as he felt their daughter give a kick in response to his ministrations. And Emily would have been perfectly willing to let him continue for however longer he wanted to, if not for an intense craving that suddenly made itself known.<p>

"Aaron?" she purred, her fingers still dancing along his scalp.

"Hmmm. Yes, honey?" he murmured against her skin, an almost dazed look in his eyes from the taste of her sweetness.

"Can you do something for me?"

He moved so that he was laying on his side, his warm, steady gaze holding hers. "Anything, Emmy."

She smiled, then let out a pleased sigh. "I'm hungry," she said, her fingers now tracing his jaw, "and I know exactly what I want for lunch." She licked her lips, chuckling to herself as she saw Hotch's eyes immediately darken. "Do you think you could go on a Subway run for me?"

Oh.

_Oh._

_That's _what she had meant.

Hotch frowned slightly, dejected, but nodded nonetheless. "Of course? What do you want me to order?"

"My usual," she yawned, rubbing her belly in swooping circles.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. _Crap._ "Which is?"

"You _don't_ know what my usual is?"

Fear began setting in. _Crap crap crap._ He bit his lip. "Is it an Italian BMT…?"

"With pepper jack cheese, black olives, pickles, banana peppers, and spicy brown mustard on toasted Italian bread? Yes."

Hotch grinned gratefully. "That is _exactly_ what I was about to say," he returned.

She rolled her pretty brown eyes playfully. "Of course it is. Now, do you think you can remember that, or do you need me to write it down for you?"

"Italian BMT on toasted Italian with pepper jack, olives, banana peppers, pickles, and mustard," he rattled off skillfully.

"_Spicy brown_ mustard," Emily emphasized.

"Spicy brown mustard," Hotch amended.

She gave him a radiant smile. "My hero," she breathed, pressing an impassioned kiss to his lips. "And…if you can get it and come back in twenty minutes or less, I just might have a reward for you," she added, her voice husky as she moved her lips to his ear.

_A reward?_ Hotch claimed her lips once more, before pulling back and gazing into her sparkling eyes. "Consider it done, beautiful."

And with a final kiss to her belly, he was off.

~.~.~

"Hi, welcome to Subway! How may I help you, sir?"

Hotch greeted the young girl - she couldn't be older than eighteen - with a cordial smile. "Could I have a footlong Italian BMT on Italian bread, please?"

"Certainly." She began cutting the bread and putting the Genoa salami, spicy pepperoni, and Black Forest ham slices on. "Toasted?"

"Please."

"And with what other additional toppings?"

"Black olives…pickles…and…" _Shit, what pepper was it? _"…green peppers."

"Ohhh-kay." Hotch watched as she pulled the freshly toasted bread out of the oven and began spreading the respective toppings onto the sandwich. "Would you like any type of dressing?"

He glanced at his watch. "Yes, um…mustard, please."

With that, the young girl cut the footlong in half and put it in a bag that read, in bright yellow and evergreen print, _Subway: Eat Fresh, Live Green!_ "Anything else for you today, sir?"

"I'll go ahead and get a white chocolate macadamia cookie as well," he conceded. _They are Emily's favorite, after all…_

She placed a cookie in the bag. "Okay, that brings your total to seven dollars and fifty-six cents."

He handed her a ten-dollar bill. "Keep the change."

The girl's face lit up. "Oh, thank you! You have a nice day, sir."

_I will_, Hotch smiled, thinking of Emily's reward. "You, too."

~.~.~

"Seventeen minutes and twenty-three seconds. Not bad. Not bad at all."

Hotch laughed as Emily put down the stopwatch and greeted him with a brilliant smile. "I would've been back in less than that if it wasn't for that broken traffic light a couple streets down."

"Then let's say fifteen minutes." She kissed him. "Even better. Now give me my sandwich."

He grinned. "Yes, ma'am." And with a theatrical flourish, he pulled the wrapped footlong from the plastic bag and placed it in her eagerly waiting hands.

"Oh my God, I am absolutely famished," she moaned. And at that, Emily took a large, hungry bite.

Hotch watched her intently as she chewed, his grin fading and rapidly morphing into a wide-eyed frown when Emily reached for a napkin and spat out the bite she'd been eating.

Emily grimaced, then slowly, with an emotionless gaze, opened up the sandwich. "You got green peppers," she deadpanned.

Hotch held his breath. "I did," he agreed.

"I asked for _banana_ peppers."

_Kill me now._ "…Oh."

Then, she took a swipe at the mustard covering the inside of the bread slice with her pinky, licking the small digit and coming to an equally as disheartening conclusion.

"This is plain mustard, Aaron," she said, her voice low. "And I wanted spicy brown mustard."

Hotch's nervous frown deepened with every second that passed. He let out a shuddery breath. "Damn it," he groaned apologetically, "you even told me -"

"I even told you twice! _Twice_!" Emily's eyes were blazing with unbridled fury. "_And_ I specifically asked if you needed me to write down exactly which toppings I wanted, but _no_, you _promised_ you'd remember, and I believed you!"

Hotch took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, trying in vain to save his skin. "I'll go get you another one, sweetheart. Subway really isn't too far away. If you want me to, I can -"

"All I wanted was a_ simple sandwich! _I didn't think it was too difficult a request!" And then, much to Hotch's horror, Emily burst into tears.

His eyes widened even further, to the point where they were almost as large as disks. Immediately pulling her into his embrace, he buried his face in her hair. "I'm so sorry, Em…"

"One simple sandwich!" she repeated, wailing.

"I'll go get you another," Hotch said resolutely. "And this time, I swear on my life, I'll get your order right."

"Don't bother," she ground out. "By then, I'll have lost my appetite."

He bit his lip. "I could…make you a blackberry raspberry smoothie," he suggested, knowing that the two berries were her favorite.

She frustratedly fisted the material of his shirt. "I'm not in the mood."

Hotch sighed, clueless as to what else he should do. "I really am sorry, sweetheart." And then, finally, he remembered the other item in the bag. "If you want, I bought you a cookie, too…"

Emily glared at him angrily, but scarcely a minute passed before he heard her ask, "What kind of cookie?"

"White chocolate chip macadamia," he answered, tentatively reaching forth with a much-needed olive branch to assuage her frustration.

It was she who worried away at her bottom lip this time, before whispering, "My favorite."

He nodded. "Your favorite."

Again, she dissolved into a fit of tears. "You remembered my favorite cookie," she sniffled, her doe eyes glistening, "and all I can do is bitch at you for getting the wrong kind of pepper."

"Hey, hey," he interrupted. "First of all, you're not bitching, and second of all, I got your order wrong, so your frustration is justified."

She pouted. "The sandwich you got isn't even that bad. I mean, I don't like green peppers, but," she began picking them out of the sandwich one by one, "if I just get rid of them and scrape off the mustard, I'm sure it'll be bearable."

"Are you sure you don't want me to get you another sandwich? With banana peppers and spicy brown mustard, this time?"

Emily shook her head, her hair falling into her face in the process. "I guess not. The cookie makes up for any mistakes you've made."

"I'm glad I got it then," he replied, offering her a smile which she returned with a watery one of her own.

In less than five minutes, she had finished the sandwich and was comfortingly patting her placated belly, watching him with an intrigued gaze. "Aaron?"

"Hmmm? Yes, my love?"

"Even though you got my order wrong, the cookie was absolutely delightful…so," she began coyly, "I think you deserve a reward. What do you think?"

Hotch looked over to her, his heart stopping at the blatantly seductive smile on her face. _Yes. _"I think…I think I deserve a chance to make it up to you."

She danced her fingers up his arm, stopping at the crook of his elbow. "Then, by all means…" she leaned forward, her cheek against his, "make it up to me."

And then, praising the unpredictability of pregnancy hormones and her increased sex drive, he did just that for the rest of the afternoon.

**THE END.**

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Crappy ending, I know, but I honestly couldn't think of a snappier one. The title wasn't snappy, either. [sigh] Maybe that's because I have a killer headache right now, but regardless, I really want to know what you thought of the story! Please take a second or two to leave me a review; your feedback means the world to me! And hey, I bet it'd make this headache go away… :)<strong>

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><p><strong>Also, the FINAL Profiler's Choice Awards ballot is up! I cannot tell you how grateful I am; Thanks to you all, <em>Daddy's Little Girl<em> got nominated for Best Hotch/Emily, and _Memento Mori_ got nominated for Best Post-Ep! I'm truly honored. If you have the time and would like to vote, the ballot and rules are at the short link here (copy/paste and remove the spaces):**

**d . pr/N11A**

**Ballots are due November 30th! And again, thank you all so very much! :)**


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